


Rekindle

by TwinklingCupcake



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Body Horror, F/M, Temporary Character Death, and a more familiar beast form, and actual death, another BatB AU because I can't help myself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-06 20:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10344159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwinklingCupcake/pseuds/TwinklingCupcake
Summary: Rumor has it that deep in the forest, a demon of destruction and rotting lives, in a rotten castle, surrounded by monsters. If one is unlucky enough to find it, they best escape quickly or be turned into a monster themselves. But those are only the rumors; the truth is far different, as Marinette soon learns.





	1. The Curse

Once upon a time, in the country of France, there lived a particular noble family. Young Prince Adrien lived in a smaller, quieter part of the country, in a secluded castle with his father and mother. His father, being the third son of a third son, and thus not ruling over the country as a whole, was able to afford to keep such privacy - not for himself, but for his  _ son _ , he insisted.

 

Being a prince was a risky title, Prince Gabriel often told Prince Adrien, and even a  _ minor  _ prince like himself could be in terrible danger. To make matters worse, Gabriel was  _ not  _ an easy man to get along with, and his cold behavior combined with cutting speech had made him several enemies. 

 

Powerful enemies.

 

He did not care if one of those enemies attacked him, but his son...He couldn’t bear for something to befall his son. 

 

Therefore, the family lived away from the larger cities, where crime and assassins were, and instead stayed in a small castle in the forest. Adrien was not allowed to leave the castle, not even with an escort, and had only the servants for real company. Minor nobles or no, his parents still had connections to keep and impressions to make, and frequently left for other lands.

 

But Adrien grew up shut away in the secluded castle, away from the world, and frequently left behind.

 

* * *

 

 

The air felt wrong.

 

That was what Adrien told himself as he stepped out of his room, hugging his arms and looking around. The sun still had not risen, and even the hardest-working servants were asleep, so the castle was dead silent. Nothing  _ could  _ have woken him, he told himself as he walked down the hall. But he  _ was  _ awake, with an odd feeling of dread and unease. Why did the air feel so  _ strange? _

 

Suddenly, he figured it out.

 

It felt heavy, suffocating. It carried a strange charge in the air that made the hairs on the back of Adrien’s neck stand up.

 

Magic, of the malicious kind. And power, likewise.

 

Which meant they were all in danger.

 

He had to warn them.

 

Adrien barely took three running steps before there was a gust of wind, and the already-dim lights were extinguished. Adrien felt like the air around him was pressing in. It was compressing everything inside the castle, choking and entrapping him. As he ran from his room down the hall, opening his mouth to shout for the others - though no sound came out but a strangled, hoarse cry - he felt as if he were running through molasses.

 

And then the butterfly appeared.

 

He didn’t know what happened, it was too quick.

 

A black butterfly perched on the bridge of the young man’s nose, and then he  _ felt  _ something change. Without seeing it, he knew something was happening; he felt his being warping, felt something invading his veins and skin. 

 

He only had a second to realize it was happening before the searing pain hit.

 

Falling to the ground, screaming in agony, he felt like his skin was burning and being dipped into water at the same time. One shaking arm reached out, desperately trying to pull forward, to keep moving -- and he saw his skin peeling away, dissolving to be replaced by inky blackness, some strange shifting shadows, or cold black flames. His head felt like it was slowly splitting open, his eyes burning with the same cold fire but the pain being too great for him to close them. His spine seemed to ripple and tear, yet he knew it wasn’t actually moving or breaking; his jaw burned like fire.

 

It felt like both eternity and the blink of an eye, but suddenly it was over. He could move again, the pressure in the air vanished all at once, and he screamed for help once again. At least, he hoped he did...he did not know what he was shouting anymore; his mind was scrambling, reeling with what had just happened and how suddenly it had occurred.

 

His legs shook as he forced himself off the floor, and gave way. The young prince grabbed a curtain to steady himself--

 

\--and in mere seconds, the curtain rotted away under his very fingers, and he collapsed to the ground, a strangled scream escaping at the sight before him, the knowledge of what his mere touch had done.

 

“Well now…” came an unfamiliar voice. “This is  _ not  _ what I expected.”

 

Gasping frantically, Adrien looked up. The sensation of magic was back, coming from the man in purple who stood before him. The man - sorcerer - was gazing down at him with cold eyes, head tilted slightly as his fingers ran over his chin, as if he were looking at an interesting passage in a book. Meeting Adrien’s eyes, he smiled coolly. “I had  _ expected  _ your father would be here,” he said simply.

 

“My father?--” Adrien gasped out, still shaking from what had happened.

 

“I had  _ intended,”  _ the sorcerer said, speaking as if Adrien weren’t even there, “to teach him a lesson for offending my person so terribly…”

 

Adrien did not know what he was talking about, nor when his father could have  _ possibly  _ met with such a man. But that did not matter. The man was still speaking.

 

“And I certainly can’t take back this spell, now that it has been cast. But…” His cold eyes looked back down at Adrien, and then he grinned so wide it seemed to split his face. “Perhaps I can still make this work. What could hurt him more than the knowledge that his own child suffers because of him? Yes...yes, this is perfect.”

 

“What did my father do?” Adrien gasped out, cold fear gripping his heart. “Whatever he’s done, I swear I--”

 

“Nothing you can say or do will change my mind, boy,” the man said, with a brisk wave of his hand. “Besides, this had been a long time coming, I believe. Consider this me delivering karmic justice on behalf of  _ everyone  _ your father insulted. Perhaps he should have thought twice before crossing a powerful magic-user,” he added with a low chuckle.

 

And as Adrien gaped in pain, confusion, and terror, the man grinned again and stroked his chin. “Hm, but if only _you_ are affected by my magic, you would suffer nobly...and I _do_ _hate_ that.” 

 

Suddenly Adrien realized what he was about to do. He shouted, about to plead for him to stop, leaping towards him--

 

\--the man lifted his staff, and swung outwards. Though Adrien couldn’t  _ see  _ anything happen, he felt the charge in the air intensify. And seconds later, the castle echoed with the sounds of horrified, agonized screaming. And with his new, more powerful hearing, Adrien was able to pick some of them out.

 

He picked out the voice of one of his closest friends, Nino, shouting about how his skin was melting, begging for help. He heard Alya, the pretty and curious new maid, pounding her fists against glass and screaming that she was trapped. He heard a loud, guttural roar that he knew, he just  _ knew,  _ to be Ivan. He heard Sabrina screaming something about the mirrors, and her hands, but she wasn’t coherent enough to say what was wrong. Nathalie’s voice was softer, choked, but he could still hear the fear in her tone, just above the sound of her rapid footfalls, as if she were trying to run from the magic itself.

 

Adrien covered the new ears that were protruding from his scalp, gritting his teeth and praying for it to stop.

 

And still the sorcerer smiled. “The rest of the curse can still be my original plan,” he said smoothly, his low voice still carrying over the cries for help. “You will remain in these forms,” he went on, his voice steadily amplifying until all could hear. “Look to the castle rose garden; every week for ten years, one blossom will rot and die. If the young prince is able to lift all of your curses before then, all shall be well. If not...well, I do not want to spoil the surprise,” he chuckled cruelly.

 

He tilted his head, as if listening to a far-away voice. Perhaps he was. “Of course, how silly of me...Yes, there  _ is  _ a way to restore you all to your true forms… If your prince loves an outsider of the castle, and if they love this cursed being, then my spell will lift. You have my word of that.

 

“But…” he laughed again, slowly fading into the darkness, leaving Adrien - no longer a human boy, no longer a recognizable prince, but a creature that would be seen as a curse, as bad luck - alone. “With  _ my  _ magic on your home, what are the odds of  _ that  _ ever occurring?”

 

And he was gone.

 

There were fast footfalls, and then Adrien felt someone fall beside him and wrap him in their arms. “A--” the woman tried to speak. “Ma-- Your H--” Nathalie coughed, trying to say his name, or title, anything. But she couldn’t - the sorcerer had even taken away the ability to say his  _ name.  _ One more time, Nathalie tried to speak, but something else came out instead, beyond her control. “Chat Noir, are you all right?!”

 

No. No, of  _ course  _ he wasn’t… They both knew that.

 

As the panic spread through the castle, everyone finding their friends and seeing the state they’d been left in, Nathalie and Chat Noir stayed on the floor together, the woman trying to keep her charge from falling apart.

 

* * *

 

 

_ Years passed, and it was just as the sorcerer said. Once a week, a rose in the castle gardens would blacken and rot, then drop from its branch to the ground.  _

 

_ Adrien and his friends tried to hold onto hope during the first few weeks. Surely, surely, his parents would return home to see what had happened. They would send for help. They would fix this. _

_ But they did not return. _

 

_ They never did. _

 

_ The castle occupants would later learn why. And they hated the sorcerer for it: _

_ He head cruelly made it impossible for the spell to break by ensuring that any outside looking for the castle would never be able to find it. And with the king and queen being out of the castle at the time of the casting, this made them “outsiders.” _

 

_ The sorcerer displayed further cruelty by enchanting the mirror in the young prince’s room, allowing him to see the outside world should he ever wish. While some initially thought it an act of mercy, they soon saw it for the cruelty it was, to be able to  _ **_see_ ** _ the outside, but to never go freely. To see the prince and princess trying desperately to find their home and son, only to give up and ride elsewhere again, abandoning them all. To see the world moving without them, to be tormented with freedom the prince could no longer have.  _

 

_ And as years passed, with none able to find them, nor they able to go to the village as normal, Adrien - no, Chat Noir - began to see that the situation was well and truly hopeless. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beauty and the Beast is my favorite story, and I really couldn’t help but make another AU… Yes, I’ve made one already, but really, what law says you can’t do the same AU twice? Especially when there’s so much you can do with it?
> 
> So this particular version takes a few more cues from the Disney film, but don’t worry, this isn’t a copy-paste either. I promise I’ll still be throwing my own twists into it and nods to other versions of the tale; so it won’t be a direct copy of my first fic either.


	2. The Background

_Nine years later..._

 

A young woman sat beneath her window, basking in the morning sunlight and using it as light to work from. She had been up since dawn, hard at work, and now...

 

Marinette deftly snipped the thread with a tiny pair of scissors and tucked them into one of her pockets in one fluid motion. “There!” she said with a satisfied smile. She stood up, smoothing the dress out before folding it and wrapping it in paper, tying it off with twine. Another job was done.

 

Now all she had to do was deliver.

 

“I'm off!” she called, making her way down the ladder that led to her loft room above the main shop.

 

“Now?” Theo asked, looking up from his own work. “But Marinette, we've got--”

 

“Work to do, I know,” Marinette interrupted as she backed out the door of the seamstress's shop. “But I promise, I'll be there and back before anyone knows I'm gone. I _promise,_ I'll be right back!”

 

“Marinet--!” Theo sighed as the door shutting cut him off, lowering his sketchbook. The girl, his fellow apprentice, was already a quarter of a way down the road, he knew it. “I don't know how she finds the time for this,” he muttered, returning to his designs.

 

“You know Marinette,” whispered his neighbor as she deftly moved her needle, quiet so as not to disturb their employer's sleep. “If something needs to be done, she'll _do it._ And there's no changing her mind. _”_

  
  


* * *

 

 

Marinette knew the streets better than she thought she would. The roads and layout of this small village were far smaller and simpler than her home village's, and despite her short time here she found herself moving automatically towards Manon's home. The sun warmed her hair and shoulders pleasantly, and she slowed her pace to enjoy it more.

 

The air was filled with the sound of people chattering amongst themselves, calling to their neighbors. She smelled various foodstuffs as she passed the butcher, the fruit vendor. As she crossed the footbridge, she paused to enjoy the sound of water lapping against the bank, the sound of the ducks.

 

Yes, it was much, much simpler here. More peaceful, too, and closer to nature. And she might have enjoyed living here very much, except...

 

Marinette's attention was grabbed by a trio of girls approaching her on the bridge. Pushing herself off the railing, she smiled and lifted a hand in greeting. “Good morning!” she said. “Nice day today, isn't--”

 

The girls breezed past, snickering quietly as they did.

 

Marinette sighed and lowered her hand, smile slowly fading to be replaced with a forlorn expression. “...it,” she finished weakly. Well, she'd tried. With a small sigh, she readjusted her hold on her parcel and continued on her way.

 

She didn't understand it, not entirely. Oh, of course, she was a bit shy, Marinette could admit that easily. And it had been a bit rough for her to move from where she'd grown up, where she  _knew_ people – to this tiny village where she knew  _nobody._

 

But for the others her own age to disregard her the way they did...

 

She hadn't made a fool of herself, she knew that for certain. She'd arrived at the seamstress's with her bags and examples of her work – and to her knowledge the villagers had been impressed well enough. She got to work quickly enough, focused on her studies and her work... Okay, sure, she was a bit glum and quiet in the beginning, being so far from home and her family, but she didn't snap at anyone who came to call!

She just focused on her work, hoping that the next few months – or maybe years – of her new employment would pass quickly enough.

 

But her mother had written that it was all right! She was new in town, she had work to do, it only made sense that it'd take a while to make new friends, to really blossom in an unfamiliar place. And...and yes, she may be having difficulty coping with her employer and her attitude towards her help, but she could ignore that. She was stronger than that, it'd take more than a dismissive attitude and a few petty, discouraging words to tear her down! But...

 

But...

 

But there was only so much she could take. If she had a friend to speak to about the situation, about her loneliness in the village, about anything that _wasn't_ related to work, Marinette could handle it.

 

But Marinette herself hadn't been able to make a friend with  _anybody_.

 

She wondered if that was entirely her fault.

 

“Mama! Mama, Marinette's here!” cried a voice as Marinette approached a familiar house.

 

Well, she thought with a smile, she hadn't befriended anybody  _her own_ age.

 

“Marinette!” Manon screeched, launching herself out the door and tackling the young woman's waist in a hug. “What'd you bring me, what'd you bring me?!”

 

“Manon!” cried the girl's mother, frowning in disapproval. “Don't be impolite!”

 

“Oh, it's fine, Madame Chamack,” Marinette chuckled. As Manon released her and stood back a few paces, the older girl knelt down, a secretive smile on her lips. “I  _did_ throw in an extra present for you,” she whispered, winking.

 

Manon squealed, taking her parcel and running inside. “Thanks, Marinette! Thank you thank you thank you!”

 

“ _Manon!”_ Nadja Chamack cried, but her words were drowned out by the sound of ripping paper. Heaving an exasperated sigh, she shook her head and pressed fingers to her temple. “I'm truly sorry, Marinette--”

 

“Really, it's fine. Kids will be kids,” Marinette said as she rose to her feet. “And it's  _really_ hard to stay mad at that face,” she added in a low voice. Subtly she pointed beyond Nadja to where Manon was still visible, the little girl squeaking in delight as she lifted a princess doll from the top of her new dress.

 

Nadja laughed a bit before her expression softened, her brows down-turned. “Marinette,” she began in a low voice so her daughter wouldn't hear. “How have you been doing lately? Are you adjusting well here?”

 

Marinette felt her face threatening to turn red. “Oh!” she hastily gasped, waving a hand in front of herself. “Oh, no – I mean, yes. I'm fine, things have been well! Why do you ask?”

 

“It's just... I understand it must be a bit difficult for you,” Nadja began, frowning slightly and tilting her head. “I've seen you around the village several times, and you never interact with anyone either. I just don't want you to be--”

 

“It's fine,” Marinette said hastily. “I'm just – I'm still adjusting, is all.” She plastered a smile onto her face, hoping Madame Chamack believed her. “It's hard to get used to a new place, you know!”

 

“That's true... Will you stay for Manon's party today?” she mercifully changed the subject.

 

Marinette considered it. It would be nice to be with Manon a bit, and the little girl did like her. But then again, the only others at the party would be her little friends, and their parents. Nobody Marinette's age. Marinette did like kids, but she wasn't sure she could deal with this many at once – and she'd likely be pitied by the older ladies too. 'Poor thing, doesn't have a soul to talk to,' she could just hear them saying already.

 

“I...appreciate the offer,” she began, “But I really need to get back to the shop. Madame Bureau will be waking up and opening shop soon, and I should be there when she does. She doesn't know I took this job,” she added in a quick whisper.

 

Nadja's eyes widened and Marinette caught her smile before she covered it with her hand. “You're not getting into trouble by doing this, are you? I imagine she'd see this as cheating her out of money she could be making.”

 

“Oh no,” Marinette said, feeling her smile becoming less fake, more natural as she thought of it. “No, she doesn't know about any of this. Theo and Mireille promised not to tell her, and I'm good at keeping secrets.”

  
  


She thought back to the small bag of money she'd stashed under her bed above the shop. Every bit of coin she earned from her own secret commissions (most of which were courtesy of Nadja, of course) went into that bag. That way, when she was finished with her apprenticeship at _Madame Bureau's Bureau_ , she could leave straight away and open her own shop, in Paris. And her own house, full of friends!

 

She'd miss Manon and Nadja, of course, but--

 

_...but that day wouldn't come for a long time._

 

Manon chose that moment to run out, princess doll in her arms. “Marinette! Are you going to stay?!”

 

“No, sorry!” Marinette blurted out, looking at a spot about Manon's head so she wouldn't be swayed by doll-eyes. “I just got done telling your mother, I gotta get back to the shop now. But I'll see you soon, okay?” She briefly knelt to give the little girl a hug, and then began walking back to her – no, someone else's – home. “Happy Birthday! Goodbye!”

 

“Bye-bye, Marinette!”

 

“Bye, Marinette – good luck!”

 

“Thank you!” Marinette called over her shoulder.

 

As she walked down the road and away from the one friendly face she knew here, her good mood started to decline again. Her feet dragged slightly, and her smile dropped.

 

She was going to be here for a while, commission or no. And Madame Bureau's attitude wasn't going to change, either. Maybe she _should_ try harder to make friends her own age, at least to make things more bearable.

 

...maybe she ought to try again. Try harder. Make some friends with the people here. Maybe--

 

“Hey!”

 

Marinette jumped, heart leaping into her throat, but the shout wasn't directed at her. As she stopped in the middle of the bridge, she saw a middle-aged man leaning out of his open window, shouting at a group of younger teenagers running into town, away from the forest a short distance away.

 

“What did we tell you about going out there?!” he shouted, cuffing one boy on the back of the head.

 

The teenagers didn't seem to care, laughing and shouting as they scattered in several directions.

 

“We heard the demon!”

 

“I saw it, I saw it!”

 

“Did not, you liar – you ran like a baby!”

 

Marinette paused, frowning. What were they all  _talking_ about?

 

But everyone had already left, so with another small shrug, she continued on her way.

 

* * *

 

 

That evening, Alya grimaced as she passed one of the hallways near the back of the castle. So dark, torn apart and cracked... It was a real shame, it once looked so  _nice,_ all over the castle too – not just in half of it.

 

She supposed she should be happy though. At least  _half_ their home still looked nice, and was actually livable.

 

It was a small comfort, but sometimes small comforts were all they had.

 

“Nathalie!” she called, peering out from her new location. “Have you seen Chat Noir yet?”

 

Even from where she stood, Alya could see the older woman's form tense, back ramrod-straight. With a tense, barely-constrained voice, Nathalie replied “I have not... And I would dearly appreciate it if you would at least  _try_ to call him by his title.”

 

Alya shrugged one shoulder. “Why bother?” she said, in a tone that was only a  _little_ grumpy. “It'll come out as something else anyway.” A short pause, and she leaned further out, watching as Nathalie seemed to be surveying the damage to the hall. “What are you doing?”

 

“Trying to decide if it's worth cleaning this up,” came the clipped reply. “It would make  _me_ happier and would be safer, but...” She left the rest of that sentence unfinished, and Alya could see her shoulders slump.

 

Despite their differences, Alya felt her heart go out for this woman. “Do you want help?”

 

“No. Thank you. It's fine, I just wish to be alone a moment.”

 

“Well... all right. I'll be in the kitchens if you need me.” And with that, Alya ducked back where she came from--

 

\--and then popped out again, just in front of the kitchen doors. “Hey!” she called out, making her way through the slight crowd. “Hungry girl, coming through!”

 

“Alya!” Rose cried as the other girl plucked a macaron from a plate she was holding. “These are  _everyone's!”_

 

“Then there's no trouble in letting me have one right now,” Alya grinned. “Hey, anyone seen Sabrina?”

 

“I'm over here!” came a familiar voice from a far corner. “I've been here for the past half hour...” Sabrina sounded so despondent Alya felt her heart twist in sympathy for the second time in just thirty seconds.

 

“Ah, jeez, sorry, Sabrina, I--”

“It's okay....I'm used to it...” Sabrina mumbled.

 

“You haven't seen Chat, have you?” asked Rose. “I've been asking around, but--”

 

“Nah, I haven't either. Kim's outside too, right? Maybe he knows where he--”

 

“Nope, sorry.”

 

“Seriously?! Where is he  _going_ all the time?!”

 

“Alya.” This was a new voice.

 

Alya froze a bit at the way the voice sounded – it was hard for her to describe. Echo-y just a little, a bit 'full'...like someone speaking from the bottom of a cave with a huge lake in it. She knew this voice. With another sigh, she turned around, locking eyes with Nino. “Yeah?” she said.

 

His dark blue-green eyes looked concerned, but calm at the same time. “He's  _fine,”_ he told her, placing a cool hand on her shoulder and laughing when Alya playfully brushed at the wet spot left behind. “You know how he is – he just wants some air. He'll be back before it's time to turn in, I'm sure of it.”

 

“I know...” Alya grumbled. “I can't help it, though – I wish he'd warn us before he takes off like that! What if something happens out there? What if someone  _sees_ him?!”

 

“He'd never let that happen,” Nino reassured her.

 

* * *

 

 

Outside, high in the treetops, a black figure stood against the setting sun. It looked up, tilting its head back as if taking a long, deep breath. Then with a twitch of its ears and a few quick, graceful movements, it leaped to the next tree, and the next, and the next.

 

“ _Chat's too fast for anyone to_ _ **really**_ _see him.”_

 


End file.
